


Shadow

by kitsune13tamlin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Kuron (Voltron)-centric, Maybe - Freeform, Operation Kuron (Voltron), Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Spoilers for season 6, so we all know what that means, well season 3 and 4 shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 05:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsune13tamlin/pseuds/kitsune13tamlin
Summary: a little bit of exploration into the Shiro we see in season 3 and 4 of the series.  Something's just not right and he can't quite put his finger on it.  Takes place before day 4 of Black Paladin Week and Anathema.





	Shadow

It doesn’t fit.

He stops. Rolls his shoulders forward. Shifts them like he’s got something crawling across his back.

But the shirt doesn’t fit.

One shoulder blade twitches and his skin crawls like there are worms under it, tiny and shivering. Suddenly desperate, on the edge of panic, he reaches up with his human hand and scrabbles numb feeling fingers against the fabric. The shirt pulls off over his head, he’s blinded by all the hair for a second and when he looks, finally, catches a glimpse of himself in the fogged bathroom mirror, he’s panting, skin pale - paler - and covered in a fine layer of sweat.

The shirt doesn’t fit.

His shirt doesn’t fit.

He blinks down at it, ignores the way the throbbing in his head has ratcheted up a notch. Its just worn black fabric in his shaking hand. Harmless. And yet sudden tears blur his vision as he stares at it and his shoulders won’t stop twitching. Itching. 

Screaming.

He’s lost weight. Of course he’s lost weight. Muscle mass too. He knows his body is smaller than it should be - used to be. Its fine that his old shirt doesn’t fit. It doesn’t mean anything. He’s tired. He’s been through a lot. He’s allowed to -

allowed…

He’s sitting on the edge of the tub before he really realizes it, the cold smack of the surface against the bones of his butt that starved muscle doesn’t cover the way it used to hitting the hard surface with enough force to jar them - to tell him he might not have sat down so much as just had his knees give out. 

His shirt doesn’t fit. It lays wrong across his shoulders. It doesn’t mean anything. He’ll fill back out again. Just - some exercise and real food. He rubs a hand over his eyes to clear the blur, tells himself firmly its a stupid thing to get so upset over. So his shirt doesn’t fit. Its not the end of the world. Its a ridiculous thing to let bother him after all he’s been through. Almost violent he wads the shirt up in a ball and pushes it in a corner of the counter. Out of the way where it won’t bother him. He needs to focus. Keith says the team needs him. He needs to come out of hiding. He knows they’re worried about him and his becoming a hermit hasn’t helped that. He needs to get back to -

back to his place. Needs to look and act the way they remember. Reassure them that everything’s all right.

The dark shadow of his shirt is visible from the edges of his sight. 

He feels guilty for not treating it better.

Through his hair, his face in the mirror looks strange. For a minute, he doesn’t recognize it. His head still hurts, a pulsing, needle pain against the back of his skull. His stomach feel cold and sick. So does his skin, the stolen heat from the shower long gone.

He needs to - needs to get back. Needs to get back to the way he was. He just - things will be better once he’s back to looking like himself. He reaches for the scissors and realizes his hand hasn’t stopped shaking. Sets them down carefully and looks at it. The scars, the callouses, the skin of it. He has to know his own hands. Hand. For a second he can’t remember what the other one, the stolen one, looked like. Tells himself it looked exactly like the other hand just in mirror.

He needs to cut his hair. He’ll feel better once he looks like himself again.

He reaches for the scissors with his metal hand. It stays steady for him. He’ll just find new clothes. Ones that fit. It was time to get new clothes anyway. He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. He just - has to pull himself together and get back to the way things were. Find a base that’s solid and then take things from there.

He’ll feel better once his hair is cut and his face is clean.

 

He’ll feel better then.

 

It doesn’t matter if his old shirt doesn’t fit him anymore.

 

It will be okay.

Everything will be okay.


End file.
